


The Art of War

by birdienz



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, M/M, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 17:42:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdienz/pseuds/birdienz
Summary: From the moment they started fighting back against WCKD, Thomas and his friends had always been able to rely on one another, to trust one another. Or so they thought.  What he didn’t know was that from the beginning, someone close to him was working with WCKD, manipulating situations and indirectly causing events which allowed for WCKD to maintain control over the Gladers.As the journey from the Maze to the Last City ensues, loyalties are tested and lives are lost as this third person slowly puts the pieces into play, allowing for a deadly and shocking final showdown, which itself poses the biggest question of them all – whose side is this person really on?





	The Art of War

 

 

_“The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.”_    
― Sun Tzu

 

* * *

 

The harsh, bright lights flickered overhead, creating slight disturbances in the stillness which had filled the room.

In the distance, the sound of heels clicking against the cool, white tiles grew louder as it neared the room.

They waited.

Supply boxes were packed tightly against the wall in the back corner of the room, the word WCKD printed onto the side of them in rich black ink. The sound was getting closer now, each click becoming more distinct with every step.

They waited.

Finally, it passed, the sound slowly fading back down the corridor into nothingness and leaving them once again in silence.

The woman opposite was taking her time, gathering her strength. The threat of an interruption had passed, allowing for her to continue the conversation, yet not doing so straight caused the tension between them to grow.

They were two creatures in a cage, each ready to make their attack. However, while the woman was stronger, it would ultimately be her lack of forethought that would lead to the others’ success. Eventually, she spoke, the coldness of her voice cutting sharply through the tension in the air between them.

“Perhaps I was not clear. Any memories you have regarding this incident will be removed and things will carry on as they were. There is nothing you can do about that.” She stared with cold, icy eyes - any sign of remorse she had previously shown vanishing abruptly.

“No, maybe I didn’t make _myself_ clear. You will fail. At least, without my help.” It was a desperate attempt to move into a position of power, but if played correctly, would prove to be effective.

“What makes you think that now, with the trials already so successful, we would need to depend on someone like you,” she countered, annoyance creeping into her voice. The woman started to stand back up, getting ready to leave.

“Well, here’s how I see it. Sure, everything is perfect now. You’ve got a great set up and as far as I can tell, everything is right where you want it to be. But that’s exactly how you’re going to lose.” She stopped, slowly turning back around as she processed what had been said. A look of uncertainty briefly crossed her face – she did well to conceal it but it didn’t take much to tell she was starting to get nervous.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well, that’s open to interpretation. But I can help you. You see, we can work together.”

She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off quickly. Caution needed to be taken – one wrong move and the doctor would regain control; an opportunity like this would not come again.

“Let’s just say, recent events have left me somewhat enlightened.  I know enough about what is going on to understand the stakes. Sure, I don’t have all the information, but I’ve been able to piece enough of it together to get a pretty good idea of what you’re trying to achieve.”

They kept eye contact with one another - not wanting to look away; each seeing the other as a threat. Neither one of them was willing to back down. But it was the _look_ in her eyes that said it all. This was not part of her plan and it wasn’t hard to tell she didn’t like where this was heading. Her stern resolve was fading.

“You want to find a cure to a virus that is ravaging the earth, but me? Well, I simply want to make sure that my friends are protected from more of your cruel experiments. You see, your problem is that you are too focused on the cure, not the subjects. Sure, you’ve studied them, but how well do you really know them, huh?" She shifted uncomfortably at this, at last breaking eye contact.  "One misstep and that’s it. Your perfect little plan crumbling because you lost the ability to predict the next move. That’s where I come in…” There was a look of interest on her face now. The words had hit their mark.

"You need someone there with them whom they trust, like me, who also knows your end game. Someone who can understand their behaviour in a way you are unable to and can anticipate the consequences to their actions. Helping them, _guiding_ them in the right direction. Planting seeds in their minds leading them to make the _right_ decisions, so to speak. Keeping everything exactly on track, and minimising casualties. That last part, that’s important to me.”

Pausing, they made eye contact again. Fear flickered in her eyes, eyebrows pulled tightly together. There was truth to what had been said, and she knew it.

“So,” she croaked out, struggling to find her voice. She was clearly taken aback by what had just been said, but already, behind those cold, icy eyes, a plan was beginning to take shape. She was catching on.

“So, I know I don’t have all the information, yet I know enough to see that without my help, you’re going to lose. And ultimately, we’re working towards the same goal. So, it’s simple. I help you, you help me.”

This was it. There was no going back now. If the plan was going to work, there could be no second-guessing, no hesitation. Moving forward meant crossing a line which could not be uncrossed. But it was the right thing to do.

It had to be.

The friendships that would be destroyed, the lives which would be lost, it couldn’t be for nothing. 

Again, Ava Paige opened her mouth to speak, but this time with more confidence. “Well then, what do you propose?”

 

***

  
The sun had set long ago, falling behind the walls which lined the glade, plunging it into darkness. A bonfire roared behind him, strangers he did not know laughed and chatted amongst one another, their shadows dancing in the moonlight.

The log he leaned against was not comfortable; the sharp, uneven nature of the wood digging into his back, yet he was thankful that he could finally have a moment to himself.  It was night time in this place that they called the glade, a place which was welcoming enough by itself, the lush greenery at the edges of the grassy field creating a seemingly lively environment.

But you didn’t have to look far to realise this wasn’t a paradise. This was a prison. Surrounding the glade were huge concrete walls, towering high above the trees and casting menacing shadows which slowly crept towards him.

A light breeze rustled through the trees marking the outer edges of the field - that itself looked welcoming, but beyond that, darkness. He wasn’t sure what was out there, and it wasn't something he particularly felt the need to find out. The uninviting nature of the woods reminded him that this place was not a home, nor could it ever be one.

He turned his attention back to the maze which surrounded him; he felt drawn to it in a way he couldn’t put his finger on. Like it was calling out to him, begging for him to explore it. He wanted to find out more, he had so many questions and so little information and the speculation about what would be out there was driving him insane. In the brief amount of time he’d spent in the glade, he’d discovered the maze was a topic that was avoided. There was something about it that terrified the other boys - he could hardly get out a question before someone would abruptly change the topic of conversation. He could see the terror in their eyes, the way they seemed to shrink back into themselves at even the mention of it. What lay beyond those walls he didn’t know, but it was enough to terrify the _shit_ out of the others. He knew it should do the same for him, but for some reason, it didn't, it only made him all the more curious.

He was sitting away from the rest of the Gladers, trying to find some peace and quiet amidst all the chaos, but to no avail. The smell of roasting meat gently wafted towards him, a subtle invitation for him to re-join the celebrations. But he didn’t want to eat, the turmoil of the day still churned in his stomach bringing with it a nauseating feeling which filled his body. The heat from the fire warmed his back, providing the only protection against the chill which had settled over the glade.

Greenie. That’s what they had been calling him. Which, as he thought about it, was better than some of the other options. But the word Greenie reminded him of what he didn’t have - what he had lost.

He couldn’t remember anything. _Anything at all._ No matter how hard he searched his mind, how desperately he tried to find even the smallest memory which would give him some hint as to who he was before all of this, there was nothing. It was haunting. He felt so detached from everything, like this was a terrible nightmare and eventually, he would wake up from it and everything would be ok. But this wasn't a nightmare – this was real. He couldn't wake up from this. _Who was he?_ All these boys were strangers to him, but the thing that unsettled him the most was that he, too, was a stranger to himself.

The only thing helping keep his panic at bay was the hope that like Alby had said, his name would return. He tried to return his focus to the mountains of unanswered questions piling up in his brain but instead found his focus being directed towards the sound of someone approaching him from behind.

"Hey, Greenie, What's up?" He turned his head slightly, just enough to see younger redhead energetically walking towards him. The hope of finally being able to find peace and quiet disappeared before him, as Chuck sat down next to him and started chatting away.

He had hoped that since he had been sitting away from the celebrations, it would have given the impression that he wanted to be left alone. Apparently not. Although he was slowly warming up to Chuck, he really didn’t want to be around him right now. He knew he was only trying to be kind, in fact looking after him was his job, but he just wanted a chance to reflect on everything that had happened.

Chuck was so young, so much younger than the other boys. No one deserved this, he hoped, but especially not someone like Chuck. He was still so full of life, his naivety somewhat protecting him from the horrors the other boys had experienced. For now. But nobody was safe forever; eventually, the nightmares haunting the other boys would catch up to him too.

He could see in their eyes what this place had done to them. They were tired. Months or even years of living in this prison had taken its toll, the darkness slowly chipping away inside them, creating a shell of who they had once been. In the distance he could hear laughter, the bonfire giving the boys a chance to be happy, allowing them to briefly forget about the nightmare they were living. Seeing them like this, one could be mistaken for thinking they were still kids. But they weren’t kids. Not anymore. Whoever had put them in here had made sure of that.

Chuck was trying to feed him some food, waving skewered meat around like a flag, but the Greenie wasn't paying attention. Although Chuck was only trying to help, it was suffocating. He doesn’t know who any of these boys are, who _he_ is for Christ’s sake.

A million cogs were all trying to turn at once in his mind, working hard to figure out answers to questions he didn't even know he had. The boys. The Maze. WCKD. Why were they here? What was out there? What was the _purpose_ of all of this?

There was so much going on in his head, so much confusion, so much noise. He was trying to process everything but the thoughts keep coming, piling up in his consciousness, swirling round and round until he felt sick. Clenching his fists tightly he dug his nails into his hands, hoping to relieve some of the pressure building up inside him, yet he couldn’t feel the pain. It was a weird feeling; his body felt numb but his mind was screaming. He needed someone to help him understand what was happening, to provide him with answers to the questions which clouded his conscience, and Chuck was not that person; he was only making the noise worse.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to..

“Hey, Chuckie, I’ll take it from here. Thanks.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see who it was that was squeezing between himself and Chuck.

_Newt_. The boy Alby had introduced him to.

As Newt sat down and Chuck scurried off, he was able to steal a quick glance. With the bonfire now roaring behind the pair, he watched as the shadows from the nearby trees flickered across Newt’s face. Just as he was thinking about the kindness he had seen in Newt’s eyes when they first met, Newt turned around to face him, catching the Greenie staring at him. He quickly cast his eyes down in embarrassment – his hopes of having a friendship with the other boy were not looking good. He’d been at a loss for words when they had first met, and now he had been caught staring intently at him. Today was just not his day.

He had expected for Newt to get back up and walk back to the others after this, but instead, he remained, both of them now sitting in silence and staring out into the darkness.

“Hell of a first day, Greenie,” Newt finally spoke, at last breaking the silence which had settled between the two boys. He continued to stare straight ahead and gave a small nod, barely registering what the boy next to him was saying. Although he could feel his mind slowly starting to calm, he was still preoccupied, the unanswered questions not leaving him alone.

“Here,” Newt said after a moment, holding out a jar of golden liquid to the Greenie.  “Put some hair on your chest.” He took the jar of god knows what from the older boy, their hands brushing quickly during the exchange, making his heart skip a beat. Strange. It was an unexpected feeling, but he didn’t stop to think about it, returning his focus to the jar now in his hand. Should he drink this? He had no idea what it was. For all he knew, and he didn’t know much, this boy could be trying to poison him. Yet something told him to trust him, the same way he was slowly beginning to trust Alby and even Chuck.

He took a large drink from the jar. For a brief second, it wasn’t even that bad, but the moment he swallowed -

“Oh, oh my God!” he choked out, the foul concoction still burning down his throat. Maybe it was poison after all. “What _is_ that?”  As one of the first things to ingest after having his memories wiped, well, this did not leave a good impression of what the glade had to offer.

“I don't even know. It's Gally's recipe. It's a trade secret,” Newt chuckled, clearly amused at the Greenie’s discomfort. Gally. Just the name made him scrunch up his face in distaste, although that maybe have been due to the sour flavour left in his mouth from the drink. But even so, he wasn’t sure he liked Gally very much - there was something about him that made the greenie uneasy.

“Yeah, well, he's still an asshole.”  Was it really necessary for him to _throw_ him across the entrance of the maze? Not only was it humiliating, but it also hurt like hell although he wouldn’t admit that. He’d found himself on the ground twice so far, and it really was getting a bit tiring.  

“He saved your life today. Trust me. The maze is a dangerous place,’ Newt replied, trailing off in his thoughts. Turning to look at him, he watched to see if there was any indication he would continue. He had so many questions, and maybe if he took it slowly, this boy would be willing to give him some answers. He seemed to be open to helping him.

“We're trapped here, aren't we?” He finally said, diverting his eyes. He was hesitant to hear the response; either way, it would not be good. If they were trapped, well that itself posed so many questions. Why were they trapped? Who put them here? Could they ever leave? And if they weren’t trapped, why were they still here? What was out there that was so terrifying no one wanted to leave? Newt remained silent, trying to figure out what to say yet the silence was the only response that was needed. The hope that he had once held was slowly beginning to disappear.

“For the moment. But... you see those guys?” The two of them turned around, looking back onto the bonfire. For a brief moment, he wondered why Newt was here, sitting alone with him instead of laughing and enjoying the bonfire with the other Gladers. But he was grateful nonetheless. He thought he had wanted to be left alone, but there was something about Newt which helped soothe the noise in his head, and he appreciated it.  He followed his gaze to where Newt was pointing.

“There, by the fire? Those are the runners. That guy in the middle there, that's Minho. He's the Keeper of the Runners. Every morning, when those doors open, they run the maze... mapping it, memorizing it, trying to find a way out.” He nodded slowly, taking in every word Newt was saying. Runners. Keeper. The Maze. A way out. Whatever a runner was, he knew that he wanted, no needed, to be a part of it. Somehow, he knew that was what he meant to do.  

“How long have they been looking?”

“Three years.” _Three years?!_  

“And they haven't found anything?" How could he possibly believe that he could escape if after three years they hadn't found a way out? Three years. He was trying to accept it when a deep, jarring sound resonated out of the darkness and across to where they were sitting. 

“It's a lot easier said than done. Listen. Hear that? It's the maze, changing. It changes every night.” Newt pointed upwards, beckoning for the Greenie to listen. This time, he listened more closely and he understood what Newt meant. The slow grinding of concrete on concrete echoed through the passages in the maze and back into the glade. He already had so many questions, and this added so many more.

“How is that even possible?”

“You can ask the people who put us in here, if you ever meet the bastards.” Newt had intended for it to be a light-hearted remark, but he could hear the anger creeping into his voice. He’d heard the same anger in Alby’s voice when he had talked about the boys being sent up, and seen it flash in Gally’s eyes as he had turned away from the closing doors of the maze. He, too, could already feel it, simmering away softly inside him.

“Listen, the truth is...”, Newt paused, trying to find the right words. “The runners are the only ones who really know what's out there. They are the strongest and the fastest of us all. And it's a good thing, too... because if they don't make it back before those doors close... then they are stuck out there for the night. And no one has ever survived a night in the maze.” He looked at Newt, and despite the warning look being sent his way, he found himself desperately wanting to test out that theory.

“What happens to them?”

“Well, we call them Grievers.” He was fixated on what Newt was saying now, hanging onto every word. Grievers. He watched as Newt shifted uncomfortably, waiting for him to continue. “Of course, no one's ever seen one and lived to tell about it. But they're out there.”

An unsteady silence settled between them. After what Newt had told him, he knew he should be terrified of what was out there, but instead he was filled with curiosity. What was it that scared the Gladers so much they couldn’t talk about it. Even Newt, who’d had no trouble talking about the maze up until that point, seemed distant. He desperately wanted to find out.

“Right, that's enough questions for one night. Come on. You're supposed to be the guest of honour.”

“Oh, no...” He really didn’t want to leave his log.

“No! No, come on. Let me show you around,” Newt said, excitement creeping into his voice. Tapping him lightly on the shoulder, he beckoned for him to stand and follow him, apparently eager to give the _big tour_. That was the last thing he wanted – to get familiar with this place they called the glade. He did not plan on staying here long.

"Come on," Newt said again, and for some reason, the Greenie followed. He had to admit, he was slightly intrigued by this place, and maybe getting to know a few people would do him some good. But he was just as curious about the blonde-haired boy standing opposite. Just like the maze, he felt drawn to him, wanting to find out more. There was something about his presence that made the greenie feel calm, his voice soothing the worries away.

There had been a twinkle in Newt’s eyes when he looked at him, but underneath his smile, he could sense something else. Something darker.

What had happened to him? What had happened to them all?

 

***

 

The sand was surprisingly hard, the fall sending pain shooting through his body. For the third time today, he was face to face with the ground. Yet again, because of Gally. As he clenched his hands around the sand, he became aware of how much his heard hurt. He must’ve hit it pretty hard for – _holy shit._

It came to him just like that, like the fall had knocked it down from a shelf hidden away in his mind.

Thomas. His name was Thomas.

“Thomas,” he said quietly to himself. That was right. Thomas. Even when he said it then, it felt familiar on his tongue. He finally had a name.

“Thomas,” he spluttered, this time louder yet his words were met with silence. Clambering to his feet, the other Gladers stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.  “Hey! Thomas! I remember my name, I’m Thomas!” This time he was louder, more confident in himself. For a moment nobody said anything, looking to one another with uncertainty, waiting to see how they should react.

“Thomas!” someone finally yelled out from behind him, and with that, the group of boys broke out cheering. A crowd gathered around him, arms reaching out to pat him on the back, finally welcoming him to the glade.

He looked up into the dark sky, watching as the sparks coughed up from the fire slowly faded into the night, taking a moment to feel the relief of remembering his name.

“Welcome home, Thomas.”

“Good job... Thomas,” Gally said as he moved towards him. Maybe Gally wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, maybe none of this was.  It was then that he realised, entangled in the arms of the other boys surrounding him, that maybe he could find a home here. Not the glade, no, that was still a prison to him, but instead with those who surrounded him. Something told him that although these boys were strangers to him now, eventually they would become his family. Their love and support for one another had gotten them through so much, and Thomas hoped that one day he too could be a part of that. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad afte-

A blood-curdling screech rang out through the glade, the joy that had filled the air immediately being replaced with fear.

“What the hell was that?” he whispered, to no one in particular. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to that.

“That, my friend, was a griever.” A griever. So that was what Newt had been talking about. If the griever was anything like the spine-chilling sounds he had just heard, he hoped he would never have to encounter one. Thomas was glad that whatever terrors lay in the depths of the maze were locked away. “Don't worry, you're safe here with us. Nothing gets through those walls.” Gally continued, yet it did nothing to reassure Thomas. He wasn’t sure he could ever feel safe here.

“All right, Guys - Let's tuck it in for the night. Come on,” Alby said at last, and so they did without protest. The relaxed atmosphere was long gone, the sound of the grievers pulling them sharply away from the security of the bonfire, returning them to the nightmare they were living.

“It was a good night.”

“Good job, man.”

“You're safe here with us.”

Was he? Was he safe? The tranquillity he had been feeling minutes before has passed, again leaving him exposed to both the fear of the unknown and a feeling of curiosity he couldn't quite shake. He wanted to get out there, to explore the maze. He wanted to escape.

Nobody spoke much after that, a few murmurs in passing here and there as the boys said goodnight to one another but otherwise, silence.  Crawling beneath the blanket, he watched the embers of the fire beginning to burn out, just as the Gladers slowly drifted to sleep. Looking around the glade, and seeing how peaceful the boys looked, one could easily be mistaken for thinking that they were just kids. But after everything that they had been forced to endure, well, they weren’t kids anymore. Whoever had put them in here had robbed them of that.  

He watched as Alby and Newt walked around the camp, ensuring the other boys had finally settled down for the night.

The tall, lankier boy was especially grabbing his attention. There was something about him that Thomas liked. He didn’t know what it was, but the feeling he had when they sat next to each other leaning against the log; he had almost forgotten that everything else had existed. Just being around him made Thomas feel calmer like someone had turned down the volume in his head. He didn’t feel afraid of him.

Rolling onto his side, he felt a heaviness creeping into his body. It wasn’t till now that he realised how tired he was; the exhaustion of the day hitting him like a truck.

As his mind started to drift, he tried to think about the maze and what lay beyond those walls yet his thoughts kept returning to the Gladers. To Alby and Gally, Chuck and Newt.

But sleep called, and he answered, allowing the darkness to consume him in the hopes that his mind could finally find some peace.

Yet perhaps he would not have done such a thing, had he known of the nightmares that would soon plague his dreams.

  ***

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed this first chapter.
> 
> A lot of this chapter was canon compliant, setting up the narrative and laying the groundwork for the secondary subplot, but the pace is definitely going to pick up soon!!
> 
> Anyways, I hope it was alright, and I'm always open to feedback! Thank you for reading :))


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